


Closer

by cutoutlions



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-24 09:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutoutlions/pseuds/cutoutlions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Bofur and Bilbo drabbles that all fit together during the span of their adventure. Ratings will change later on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Company

The fire hissed, cracked and popped as Bofur eased another log into it’s waning flames. It was another lonely start to his watch, the sounds of dwarven snores keeping him company and keeping him awake. He didn’t mind taking watch, he honestly didn’t, despite not being the bravest of their company, but it gave him time to think while the night waxed on. He could admit that it ended up being a tad boring at times, left alone with his pipe and thoughts. Bofur had taken to carving wood when his thoughts grew dark, thoughts of fire and dragons, of gold lost and needing to be reclaimed… and of a throne needing it’s king. The carvings never turned into anything special, and often he would throw whatever he had made into the flames, as it was just something to pass the time and nothing more. 

He was having one such night, lost in the whittling of the wood, when he heard a stirring among their company. Normally it wouldn’t matter much, probably someone needing to take a piss, or if Bombur perhaps having a bite of bread. Although his curiosity was piqued he paid it no mind, until light footsteps drew near the fire, and the log he was resting on dipped with extra weight. His hands stopped their movements as he looked up curiously, only to ease into a fond smile. Seated next to him, wrapped in his blanket, was their young burglar. The hobbit. Bofur could not have asked for nicer company.

“Can’t sleep, Mr. Baggins?” Softly as he brushes off the little mess beside him that he had made during his carving, a wordless offer for the hobbit to move closer, if he wished to. To his delight the halfling did shift closer, either desiring comfort from the fire or from another body, perhaps both. 

“Not really, no. Although it’s a miracle I get any sleep at all, what with all the snoring.” Huffed the Baggins, wrapping the blanket around him tighter as Bofur let out a soft chuckle. He couldn’t argue with that, not really, their company had quite the number of loud snorers in the bunch and it must be right dreadful for one who is not used to the company of so many dwarves. Reaching over he gives a comforting shoulder pat and squeeze to the halfling before pulling back to go back to his carving, “well I can’t say no to your company, Mr. Baggins.”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the hobbit smile and it tugged at his stomach. They sat in silence as Bofur fell back into his carving and Bilbo was more than content to watch crafty hands at work. The silence finally breaking when the hobbit asks him a question, “how do you do that?” His fingers slow as he looks to the halfling with a crooked smile, gesturing to the carving, that was starting to take shape as a simple horse, “what, this? Why… it’s easy.”

Leaning over he plucks up a small block of wood, pressing it against soft palms. “Shall I show you?” But the halfling quickly pushed it back, looking almost shy in his refusal. “O-Oh no, no no no. I am all thumbs, really. I couldn’t ever make anything lovely like you do. But if you don’t mind terribly, I would like to watch you some more.” The latter was said sheepishly with an averted gaze. Bofur could not say no to that, so he happily obliged.

“I reckon I can do that for you, Mr. Baggins. Why don’t you tell me of your home in the meantime? Of your Shire? It’s awful quiet during watches regularly, I would quite like to hear of nicer things.” Bilbo seemed shocked at the request, and he did hesitate a moment before easing in and talking at great length about all the things he missed from home, and what made the Shire so lovely. Bofur didn’t interject much, unless to ask specific questions, most having to do with culture and how certain things differed between dwarves and hobbits. But he was very pleased to learn that both of their people enjoyed a good party, drink and story.

Soon the talk turned to hobbits and their celebrations, on how the halflings would find anything they can to celebrate, being the happy people they were. Bofur took an interest in the party tree, of all things, and of the dancing. Bilbo would humor his questions to his delight, explaining everything in fine detail. It almost made him feel like he was there himself, among halflings, sharing in ale, stories… song and dance. He felt a longing there, in his heart, not just for home in a general sense, but for belonging somewhere. To sit under the party tree with the halfling, sharing a smoke and a story, maybe a song or a laugh… He found himself aching for it, far more than for Erebor, much to his surprise.

He found himself chuckling along with Bilbo, as the halfling told him a rather amusing story involving Gandalf and his fireworks, delighting in how Mr. Baggins’ face would light up with joy at the telling of his home, his family and the things he held dear. And it wasn’t the first time, since they started, that Bofur felt a great respect for their little burglar, leaving all that comforted him to join a group of dwarves and a wizard to partake on a quest that didn’t even concern him. And that he may never even see home again.

Finally only embers were left and Bilbo had grown quiet, either weary from sleep or with homesickness. His watch was nearly done, so he kicked another log onto the fire before he shifted in place, his whittling knife had stopped, but he did not toss the carving into the flames. “Well, Mr. Baggins, it seems like a good a time as any to be getting some shut eye. We have a long road ahead of us in the mornin’, and Thorin likes to keep a steady pace, as you know.” Bilbo only nodded his head and murmured in agreement as he sleepily got to his feet, ready to collapse onto his bed roll for whatever time he had left for a peaceful sleep. But before he could step away, Bofur stopped him.

“Ah, just wait half a moment, Bilbo.” Getting to his own feet and taking a small hand in his own. Bilbo could feel the carving being pressed into his palm and in curiosity he looks, and his entire face softens into one of great fondness. “Bofur…” There was a hint of emotion there as he thumbed the wooden leaves of the tree carving the dwarf had given him. It was, to his great surprise, the party tree. But why Bofur would carve this and give it to him when the dwarf had been burning all others, he didn’t really understand. He poses this question with a look, watching the dwarf carefully.

Bofur just sniffs in response, rubbing at his nose. “I just figured you might like a piece of your Shire with you, is all. I know it ain’t much, but it’s the least I can give you, for staying with us and all. Who knows, it may even bring you some comfort on the road ahead.” Steadying the halfing with a warm and friendly smile.

All Bilbo could do was stare, his neck and the tips of his ears growing pink with how sentimental this was. He takes another look at the carving, with a shy little smile, before he eases up on the very tips of his furry toes, to place a kiss to Bofur’s cheek. “Thank you… I believe it will do just that.” Said softly, and before Bofur could really register what had happened, Bilbo turns on his heel and scurries back to where he was sleeping previously, clutching the carving close to his chest, his cheeks hurting from the wide smile he wore as he drifted off back to sleep.

All Bofur could do was watch, his heart feeling much warmer and lighter as he returned to his seat by the fire. He tugs his hat down, to hide the smile before lighting his pipe.

His watch for the night was over, but he supposed he could let Dwalin sleep in a bit.

He wanted the feeling to linger, just a little longer.


	2. Warm

The wind was relentless and the cliff face was steep and hard to get a good grip for even the sturdiest of dwarven boots, one could hardly imagine how hobbit feet were faring with the ice and jagged rocks. Out of the company, Bofur and Dori were the ones that tended to look after the young burglar, but Dori had been holding on to Ori his youngest brother and he hardly had the time to look back to see if the hobbit was close enough behind. While Bofur had his own brother to worry over, Bombur’s weight was no help on the thin slope, but much to his relief their cousin, Bifur, was keeping a tight hold on the heavy dwarf. That left the halfling in his care, and he could tell by just looking at him that the hobbit was not doing too well against the wind and the snow.

Up ahead Bofur could vaguely make out the wizard, and barely heard what he was hollering to those behind. From the gist of it he gathered that the old man had found shelter and was urging the company forward to shelter themselves from the raging storm. It caused his spirits to lift and he tugged the hobbit closer, voice raising so he could be heard over the wind, “did you hear that, Mr. Baggins? Gandalf has found us shelter! Not too far now, there’s a lad.” But the halfing was slow to respond and it caused Bofur to stop. They were the stragglers of the group thus far, as Bilbo’s steps were slow and calculating, careful not to slip or fall (he nearly did, twice, but Bofur was quick to steady the young hobbit.)

“What’s wrong? We’re almost there!” Leaning down to catch any word from the frigid halfling, and all he could make out were murmured pieces of ‘cold’ and ‘can’t move’. Bofur frowned, taking a closer look at the halfling sheltered against him. His lips were tinted blue, he was pale and his feet were buried deep in the snow. He reckoned that wasn’t good, and he could hear Nori calling for them to hurry as the storm was only getting worst. Without much left to do he pushed his pick back into it’s belt loop (he had been using it to gain grip on the sketchier patches of the cliff side) before shifting his cloak around himself, as to not tangle in his arms.

“Give us your hand, Mr. Baggins.” Softly as he tugged the halfing closer, and while he put weight on his left leg, he hoisted the shivering hobbit into his arms. It took Bofur a moment to get used to the weight in his arms and he was surprised at just how slight Bilbo was, not hard to carry at all. It was a little awkward balancing as he made his way towards the rest of the waiting company, but not impossible, and soon he felt Nori and Dori helping him along into the little cave the wizard had found, and much to his relief a fire had already been started and it looked mighty inviting. 

He vaguely registered the concerned questions as he quickly moved to take a seat by the fire, the halfling still cradled with much care against his chest, and now trembling terribly in his lap. Bofur pushed back damp curls, noting that the halfling was (quite literaly) out cold, the dear thing must have passed out as soon as he was secure in his arms. “He’s just terribly cold, that’s all.” In answer to a questioning look given to him by Thorin, who in turn, murmured that they needed to outfit their burglar in more fitting wear for snow and storms. The others readily agreed, some even taking off the furs from their own cloaks to make something warming for their young halfling.

Bofur did not move a muscle to help, instead he just tugged his own cloak around himself a bit tighter, covering Bilbo in the process. He was treated with the halfing shifting and pressing closer against him, his face now pressed against his neck. Bofur felt a smile tug at him, in spite of the situation, and his hand began to gently rub soothingly down Bilbo’s arm.

“It’s all right, Bilbo.” Started softly, tone low for only sleeping ears to hear, “I’ll keep you warm.”


	3. Rain

It was raining. 

Again.

If it wasn't raining, it was snowing. Or, when they were especially lucky, it rained and snowed at the same time! Dwarves were amazingly resilient creatures, if not a little tetchy at times, marching on through the rain and whatever else the world was throwing at them. Hobbits, in their way, were resilient as well. Resilient, but not waterproof. While Bilbo was comforted and warmed (body and heart) by the hastily made cloak, sewn together by Bombur from pieces of clothing and furs of their company during a feverish night... it had no hood. There was not enough material for them to do so. But he accepted this great gift generously and it has kept him warm during all this rain. Yet this blasted rain! It was causing curls to stick flat on his head, pouring into his eyes and making it hard to see most times.

He had been trailing only a little behind, bumping shoulders with Ori and Oin. The younger had grown to be an assistant to the elder dwarf, often writing things down for him or cataloging herbs and strange plants for him. They also tended to trail towards the back line from time to time, and no one seemed to mind. And they both, Bilbo noted with a hint of scorn, had hoods. Even that bloody book Ori kept scrawling in had a hood! Whoever heard of a book with it's own hood? Surely not he, oh no. 

No one cared about poor halfings and their soaked curls. ...Oh he knew they did, and that his mood was spoiled by the rain, or else they never would have made this cloak for him while he nearly froze to death on that bloody mountain. The thought definitely counted, and he was relieved it was keeping his clothing dry at least. But oh how the tips of his ears were growing cold! He dare not cup them, lest he let the rain water in, ruining his nice dry clothes.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

"Where's our halfling?" Mused Bofur as he squinted ahead and around, pulling his own hood back a tad to better his vision.

"Did you not see the dear thing fall back? Looked wet and miserable, he did, our Mr. Baggins. Why, I believe the rain's getting to him, getting to all of us." Dori shared as he tightened his cloak around himself, clicking his tongue at the roof of his mouth as he leaned closer while they walked on, looking ahead at their wizard and prince. "I reckon master Gandalf could do something about this, not the rain, mind you. But the... ah, accommodations don't you think? Use his great wizard staff, perhaps to keep the rain off?"

"There's an idea." Chuckled Bofur as he looked behind them, heart easing as he caught sight of the halfling trailing along with Ori and Oin. Ah... that was a relief, as long as someone was near the lad it should be fine, he supposed. But already he was itching to fall behind himself. "I don't reckon Gandalf figures the rain bothers us much, since he's got the hat and a cloak. Don't make much sense for him to think about less unfortunate heads, aye?"

He was answered with an amused yet dignified little huff, and Bofur turned to look at him with a raised brow, "what?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Gandalf isn't the only one not thinking of less unfortunate heads." Remarked the dwarf dryly, stubby fingers reaching over to flick the nearest flap of that ridiculous hat, sending a soft spray of rain water. "Or..." And he gained an interesting tone, a smirk tugging at him as his hand disappeared back under his cloak, "maybe there is too much thinking about cold, wet halfling curls. And not enough doing?" Then Dori gave a little huff and another tsk. "Rather thoughtless and not at all chivalrous, if you ask me."

"Then I'm glad I didn't." Responded Bofur far too cheery as he fell back. But once he was out of sight from the older dwarf he feels his brows furrow for a moment, then he peeks up at the brim of his hat, thoughtful. 

...And then he smiled.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

"Afternoon, Ori, Oin." Bilbo looked up at the new, cheerful tone.

"What? What was that? Chaffer gloom? Well, lad, that don't make much sense do it? Do it make sense to you, Ori?" Gruffed the older dwarf, adjusting his hearing piece.

"I SAID AFTERNOON, YOU DAFT BUGGER." Raised Bofur, and a sprinkling of chuckling throughout their company followed. There was a harrumph from the elder, and snickering from the younger as both quickened their pace.

"You shouldn't have called him daft," reasoned Bilbo as Bofur joined him, in a chiding tone. It earned him a charming grin and a wink, which made his heart skip a beat. "Oh that? Ol' Oin'll forget by supper, an' if he don't, I'll just tell him I called him something else, aye? Maybe give him an extra spoon of stew. You fret too much, Mr. Baggins!" Clapping a hand on a damp shoulder as they continued on.

"It's still rude." Bilbo chimed back at him with a soft chuckle.

"So it is. Apparently I've been mighty rude for most of the day, or so it's been brought to my immediate attention." Fingertips moved from a slender shoulder to brush through damp curls, and tracing the tip of the halfling's ear. "...Oh, well aren't you awful cold." His touch lingering perhaps too long.

Bilbo certainly didn't feel cold, not now. In fact, the tips of his ears were beginning to grow warm in a flush. All he could do was quicken his pace with a clearing of his throat, murmuring under his breath that he was fine, it was just a little rain! It would all be fine and they were probably making camp soon, so no need to make a fuss when he could dry by the fire in a couple of hours or so.

He nearly loses his footing, however, when he suddenly feels a slight weight and a heart fluttering warmth sit atop his head. A hand on the small of his back is steadying him, and he's looking up, spotting a familiar furry rim. A puzzled and questioning look now being shot at the currently hat-less dwarf, and he was given a wink in return.

"Can't have our burglar catchin' a frightful cold, now can we? Besides, it makes no sense for me to be havin' a hood an' a hat, yeah? Now, you keep that warm and safe for me, Mr. Baggins. It's my favorite."

Before Bilbo can stutter assurances that the hat will be fine, Bofur just nods to him with a grin, tugging his hood up and trotting back up the line. Leaving a bewildered and... charmed hobbit in his wake.


	4. Stolen

"He fancies you, you know." 

 

Bilbo was currently distracted, and Bombur was hardly a vocal dwarf to begin with. He was usually quite soft-spoken when he did choose to speak, so Bilbo very nearly missed that the tidbit of information was for his ears. "Uhm, I beg your pardon, Bombur?" Approaching the hefty dwarf as Fili and Kili started to collect things so they could start a fire, warm the company up after days of rain.

 

"My brother, he fancies you." Repeating himself calmly as he eased himself onto a stone as he started to unpack his bag, taking out various cooking utensils so he could get their meal underway. He gestures for Bilbo to come closer, maybe insinuating that he would like some help in this endeavor as they chatted. There was no real fear of their conversation being interrupted, as Bofur and Bifur were to accompany the young brothers to hunt as well as bring back wood for their camp. 

 

Bilbo swallows hard as he approaches him, quietly taking some pots and rations to start the broth in. They were both quiet, the dwarf seeming content to let his words truly sink in and to be quite honest Bilbo did not know what to do with the information. "He... you said he fancies- me. Me? Surely not." He fumbles with one of the spoons and very nearly drops it, but Bombur has faster reflexes than one might think, but his cooking utensils tended to be quite precious and handy.

 

"Aye. The whole company knows, my brother has never been very subtle." Shifting to his feet with a bit of a sigh, moving to start preparing some of the potatoes that they had left, offering Bilbo the peeler, which he took quietly. "Now, as his family - oh, Bifur couldn't talk to you like this, as he's not all right in the head, as you may know. You wouldn't understand him anyway." Bombur continued, still so soft spoken, but Bilbo knew he really needed to be paying attention, and he was trying very hard not to fumble with his peeling, to show his nerves.

 

"We have our rows, but he's my brother, you follow me?" Only waiting for Bilbo's nod before continuing, "I figure you're not aware of our courting ways, being a halfling. But I've never seen him try so hard to win affections before. So, a friendly suggestion, Master Baggins. Iffin' you're planning on letting him down, do so gently and swiftly. He aches, my brother, I would rather him get his answer now and be at peace... than have him wait and longing. Now if you don't mind, could you please pass the spices?"

 

His tongue felt heavy as he nodded, reaching over to pass the dwarf what he needed. He hears Bofur's musical laughter coming from the woods, and he looks to where the dwarf had disappeared to, brows furrowing in thought.

 

\--

 

Dinner passed without a hitch, with the combined cooking efforts of halfling and dwarf, the company was full and content. 

 

Mostly.

 

Bilbo had been very quiet throughout, but he was normally rather silent while they ate. It was expected of him, being a hobbit and enjoying his food. No one particularly noticed, save for Bofur. The halfling's silence was less 'I am very hungry so I will eat my fill' and more of a thoughtful silence, if anything. Bofur would like to think he knew the difference, considering just who his brother was.

 

Gathering his emptied bowl, moving to pile it with the others. Nori and Gloin were on dish duty this evening, thankfully, that gave him some time to take a seat next to the halfling, who didn't seem to notice his approach. He raises a brow, also spying that his portion had barely been touched. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, pressing bare fingertips to the halfling's forehead.

 

Bilbo jumps, startled out of his thoughts, but... rather settled when he sees just who it is. Bofur's fingers caressing cool skin, trailing up into curls absently before he's pulling his hand back while he clears his throat, easing down next to the halfling. "Surely my story during dinner didn't put you off that much, Master Baggins. It were only in good fun. I c'n see now that you're not sick, you're cool to the touch."

 

"Hm...? Oh. Oh, no. I'm not sick nor was I bothered by the cave troll bogey story... Although, perhaps you should leave the gross ones for any time that isn't meal time? I nearly thought Ori was going to be sick." The halfling's words earned a chuckle from the dwarf and he nods, knocking his hat back half an inch with his thumb, although his mirth died down, followed by soft concern.

 

"If... there's anythin' botherin' you, Bilbo. Anythin' at all, you know you can come to me, right? I know Gandalf is a wise old wizardy sort, an' that you're gettin' along better with Master Thorin." Clearing his throat there, brows furrowing briefly for reasons Bilbo didn't understand, "but I just want you to know... well, that I'm another ear you can come to."

 

Bilbo manages a half smile as he watches him, the dwarf had averted his gaze, focusing on the others getting their bed rolls ready, and the halfling can't help but recall Bombur's words.

 

'He fancies you, you know.'

 

Before he opens his mouth to say anything, he's interrupted by Thorin himself, calling out to Bofur to set up for first watch of the evening. Bilbo hears the soft sigh from the dwarf before he notes a smile tugging at him again, and his shoulder is being squeezed.

 

"Well, rest good, Bilbo. Perhaps we can talk in the mornin'. If we don't get eaten by wargs... or worst." A flash of a more sincere grin as Bilbo balks, and a chuckle as he turns to take his preferred spot by the fire.

 

\--

 

Bilbo couldn't sleep.

 

Bombur's words and hidden, unspoken threat loomed in his mind. His dreams vivid and realistic, of burning lips, ripping clothes and a heat incomparable to any dragon's fire. Of skin touching, guttural moans, gripping and biting, of breathless laughter and the tickle of whiskers on his bare flesh. 

 

He finally opens his eyes, the images seared into his mind and he could not fight the flush rising up his neck. And it took him several breaths to calm his body down. He couldn't think of other things, not at the moment. There was only one name on his mind, one he wished to scream while in the throes of passion. The halfling shudders and looks up at the night sky. 

 

The dwarf was probably over halfway through his watch, and everyone else was sleeping soundly. At this point in the journey, Bilbo could tell by each of their companion's snores, and other such sounds while they slept. The only one he was never very sure about was Thorin, but the dwarf tended to be very quiet in general.

 

Well, he wasn't the only one who could be quiet.

 

Mustering up the courage he gets to his feet, silently padding to where Bofur had moved and propped himself up. Not as near to the fire as he usually is, but during this time of his watch, the dwarf tended to get a little more comfortable if wherever they rested provided an adequate place to rest ones back. The dwarf had found shelter under a tree not too far from the company, but giving him a perfect vantage point in case anything nasty came to sniff about their companions, friends and rations.

 

He saw Bilbo approach, a brow raising curiously. "Couldn't wait 'till morning, Bilbo?"

 

Bilbo hesitated just a little, standing before the dwarf. He was all nerves and wandering thoughts, he tugs at his shirt and fidgets with buttons, clearing his throat and yet not saying anything. Bofur was about to prompt him again, gently, when the halfling splayed his hands before him, babbling endearingly.

 

"I- well. That is to say. I do... too. I do, truly."

 

Well. That did not make a bit of sense to Bofur, and his brow raises ever higher as he leans back to study the halfling. "I... pardon? Have you been gettin' into the funny mushrooms? I told Kili not to give you any. Why I'll skin the bugger..."

 

"N-No! Uhm. ...Ah. No, that's... er. Not it? No, not it. I spoke with your brother while preparing our dinner."

 

That has Bofur's attention, and he spares a glance to the familiar round shape near the fire. Now what in Middle Earth did his brother have to say to the halfling to make him fret so? If it were anything particularly nasty he'll force the younger dwarf to go half a day without rations. He didn't like the thought of anyone teasing or unnerving the halfling. Unless, of course, it were his own doing. He couldn't quite help himself, he looked so darling when he jumped and spluttered, eyes wide in disbelief or fright. It was charming.

 

"He ah... He told me that you." He gestures uselessly, "that you fancy. Me." Then pointing to himself. Before Bofur can say anything, he's rushing ahead. He needs to say this and not be interrupted, or else he'd lose his nerve and burrow underneath the ground to never return. "And I do too. I... mm. I fancy you too." There. There he said it. But he had nothing to do with his hands, so they're awkwardly fidgeting with his clothes again, unsure of how this will change anything but he got it out of his system and it was like a great weight had been lifted from him.

 

Bofur was quiet for a long moment, regarding the halfling curiously and... in more than a little shock. He shakes the embers out of his pipe and tucks it into one of his many pockets, sitting up a little more, his interest piqued. "Do you now?" Tone... soft, yet contemplative. He watches the halfling squirm before him, and even in the night and shadows, Bofur's keen eyes can make out the hint of a flush painting pale hobbit cheeks. He was accustomed to darkness, since he spent such a long time in the mines looking for precious jewels. 

 

He knew how to spot a gem in the darkness. It was a gift.

 

Leaning back against the tree, gesturing for Bilbo to come closer, on his lap if he can get away with it. And color him surprised when the halfling took him up on his offer. He could feel the heat rolling off of the hobbit in waves, already short of breath and looking nearly faint. ...Ah, now that was a familiar look, and a playful grin tugs at his lips. His hand reaches up, trailing the curve of a warm hobbit ear, leaning in painfully close as he drinks him in. "I think I know why now... why you couldn't sleep t'night." His breath warm against parted lips. The sound Bofur was treated to was so soft yet desperate, and it caused his heart and belly to clench.

 

"Y'know, for someone claiming to not be a burglar, little halfling... You have done a thorough job of stealing my heart." Oh he knew if anyone were awake they would groan and toss something at his head, but he meant it. From the first night when he regarded their burglar in his home, sizing him up for himself. He knew. There was something special about this halfling and he was intrigued right away. ...Besides, he fainted mighty pretty, didn't he.

 

He feels Bilbo lean in further, his hand now smoothing, caressing and cupping a soft... hairless cheek as he guides him into a clumsy first kiss. It wasn't perfect, their noses bumped and their lips were in such a need for contact that they missed once or twice. Bofur caught the corner of the burglar's mouth, and Bilbo let out a breathless laugh as he got a mouthful of the dwarf's mustache. They needed a moment of calm, and Bilbo felt the cushy warmth of the brim of Bofur's hat pressing against his forehead. Both hands were cupping his face now, and he could practically breathe in the grin he knew Bofur was wearing.

 

This time Bofur is guiding him in slowly, and there is a distinct buzzing and tingling of his lips when they finally meet. He let's out a sigh of relief, and Bofur chuckles. But the laughter soon fades as heat starts to pour into their kiss, eyes closing as hands groped and felt in the dark, lips parting and tongues tasting... feeling. Bilbo let's out a soft moan and Bofur is soon to hush him with lips and tongue, rough hands settling on bare calves and smoothing their way up, curious fingers pushing the hem of Bilbo's trousers up until the couldn't go much farther. But his fingers do dip under the cloth, so he can feel and touch the bare and soft flesh of his thighs.

 

The dwarf breathes against Bilbo's lips, but soon his hands are retreating and he pulls back. Not completely, and his hands are on the halfling's hips, taking all of his willpower not to pull the hobbit flush against him, so he can rock his clothed, aching need against him. But... no. No. He needed them to stop, and Bofur holds back a groan at the sound of need that Bilbo croons for him.

 

He presses a fingertip to warm lips, bruised from frantic kissing.

 

"Ah... My watch is almost over, Bilbo. An' we can't, not just yet." He pauses then, managing a soft smirk, "we need somethin' that I don't actually have on my person right now. I'll barter with Nori to filch me some off of someone in our company, don't you worry."

 

"Who says I'm worried?" Bilbo breathed, trying to no great success to calm his body down. It was very difficult when the memory of rough fingertips against his soft, unmarred flesh was so clear and fresh in his mind. Sleeping was going to be hell, he knew. "Can't we just... just. Something?" Fingertips curling into Bofur's mustache, tugging at him. It earned an increasingly infuriating chuckle, that was doing nothing for his current frustrations.

 

"Oh... I would much rather have you coming for the first time when I'm inside you, mister Baggins, if it's all the same to you." He smirks at the silence and when he feels hands leave his mustache. He hears the halfling grumbling about getting a 'good rest then' and Bofur cannot help himself, reaching over to give that pert rump a squeeze as Bilbo moved to stalk off.

 

Bilbo has to clap his hands over his mouth to muffle the undignified squeak. He shoots a glare over his shoulder and rolls his eyes at the light laughter. But he immediately flushes when Bofur calls after him;

 

"Aye, you'll be needin' the rest, considering what I plan t'do to ya tomorrow!"


End file.
